Argentine Marines: Colemil and his Men en Monte Longdon

Lance Corporal Colemil and his men on Monte Longdon

The Marines of the 12.7 mm machine-gun company attached to RI-7 on Monte Longdon prepared the defence of their position as they were accustomed to: deep works, with shelters, communication trenches, ammunition stores, etc., always working to improve them. It was the best way to pass the time before going into combat, as they were convinced they would have to fight, and constant work was the best way to overcome the انتظار, in line with Marine Corps tradition. When the British assault came, they saw how right that attitude had been. Those who had not done so suffered unnecessary casualties and were unable to fight effectively.

Two days before the attack, Lance Corporal Colemil went to the Marine Corps Combat Support Service. There, Lieutenant Scotto told him: “Vizcacha (another of Colemil’s nicknames), here are the newly arrived night sights—take these for the rifles and machine guns.” The lance corporal took three for rifles: he gave one to his commanding officer, Lieutenant Dachary, another to Chief Corporal Lamas, and kept the third. He also carried six Litton sights for the machine guns and five or six head-mounted night vision devices that proved of no use. The following day, the Marines spent time training with the night sights.

The night of 11 June 1982

Carlos Rafael Colemil, in charge of a 12.7 mm machine gun (the one positioned furthest to the west on Monte Longdon), had taken conscript Leiva, who felt unwell, to the aid post. After being examined and treated, he was authorised to return to his position. On their way back, they passed by Chief Corporal Lamas’s machine gun, who said to Colemil: “Stay very alert. Don’t let your guard down—there could be an attack tonight.” They continued on. When they reached the shelter they used for rest, Colemil woke the relief and, together with two conscripts who had already completed their watch on the 12.7, began the nightly patrol. They stopped briefly near the Army’s Racit (S) radar (an infantry radar used to detect the enemy) and exchanged a few words with the operator sergeant. “Get into your dugout—they’re about to start firing,” he warned Colemil.

The radar, capable of detecting enemy infantry movements, was switched off at 8 p.m., as British ships had detected it and subjected it to naval fire from the south, which facilitated the infiltration of British paratroopers for the attack. These paratroopers, roughly a company in strength, made their way through the minefields without triggering them. Silently, they infiltrated sectors held by the Bravo Company of RI-7, under Second Lieutenant Juan D. Baldini, whose front faced west on Monte Longdon.

Colemil and the two conscripts continued moving among the rocks until he stopped and looked west through his rifle’s night sight. To his surprise, he saw a diffuse shape moving not far away. Uncertain, he aimed his FAL rifle and fired a shot. In response, he heard the unmistakable rattle of a Sterling machine gun. There was no doubt—it was the enemy, and close. At the same time, a paratrooper stepped on a mine; the man’s cry and the explosion alerted the whole of Monte Longdon.

Once the enemy was detected, Colemil ran to the shelter and used the field telephone to call Lieutenant Dachary’s command post: “Cobra, this is Araucano. Cobra, this is Araucano.” —“Go ahead, Araucano.” —“Man the weapons—we are under attack, we are under attack.” —“Received.” (The machine guns were connected to Dachary’s command post and to each other.)

While Colemil alerted his superior, the fighting spread. Thanks to the element of surprise, the British managed to position themselves at the western end of the hill, advancing with machine guns, rifles, and 66 and 84 mm rockets. The atmosphere was hellish. Colemil marked targets with tracer rounds from his rifle, aided by the night sight. Then came artillery fire. The Argentine Marines dived into their foxholes; as soon as it stopped, they emerged to keep firing, only to be hit again. The paratroopers took advantage of these moments to advance, overrunning Colemil’s position, leaving him isolated and unable to rejoin Dachary’s men.

Undeterred, Colemil continued firing the 12.7, but not for long—the weapon jammed and went out of action. From that point, a long night began for “Araucano” Colemil, a brilliant NCO whose determination and bravery caused the British many problems and numerous casualties.

“Well, we’ve got rifles and plenty of ammunition,” he told conscripts Ferrandiz and Leiva, who had remained with him. “Let’s shoot them to pieces.”
“Corporal, they’re coming in their hundreds,” said Ferrandiz.
“That’s fine—we’ll let them pass and then hit them from behind.”

At one point, Colemil saw British troops trying to set up a mortar. “These won’t get away,” he said, opening fire, wounding one and forcing the others to withdraw.
“Watch your back, Corporal!” warned Leiva as three paratroopers approached at speed. Colemil turned and fired a burst of about fifteen rounds. One fell; the other two retreated wounded, shouting.

Lying prone, he searched for targets through his sight. Whenever one came into range, he put them out of action. Alone, he caused heavy losses among those attempting to take the Argentine positions in that sector of Longdon. His conscripts supported him with their rifles.

At one point, he saw the enemy trying to recover a recoilless rifle near his position. He opened fire, saw one fall, and then his position came under intense fire. At that moment he thought: if I don’t fight, I’m dead. He began crawling from position to position, firing whenever he saw an enemy. He spotted one standing on a parapet with a bipod-mounted rifle—he fired, and the man dropped instantly. He continued firing at others trying to reach him.

While exposing himself to find targets, Colemil was hit—the round struck the front of his helmet, pierced it, and lodged in his scalp, stopping at the back of his head. A paratrooper, from just over twenty metres away, had thrown a grenade which exploded nearby, but a rock stopped the fragments. As Colemil rose to locate him, the same man fired his rifle. The bullet grazed his head. Because of this wound, running from forehead to nape, Colemil earned the nickname “Moneybox”. He felt warm blood running down his face. Dazed, he steadied himself, took up his rifle, and waited. As soon as his attacker appeared from behind a rock, he aimed at his chest and fired. The man cried out and fell backwards.

“Corporal, let’s bandage your head,” said Ferrandiz.
“Yes, but quickly—we can’t stop firing.”

“We’re cut off—we won’t hold much longer.”

At around 3 a.m., they began receiving fire from their own artillery, which was striking the area assuming it had already fallen.
“Corporal, why don’t we surrender?”
“No—no way. I won’t be taken prisoner.”
“Then let’s fall back.”
“All right—let’s go. We’ll link up with Corporal Lamas.”

They tried to withdraw but were immediately engaged and forced back. Colemil had offered fierce resistance and was clearly pinpointed.

At approximately 03:00, he decided to withdraw towards Bravo Company’s command post. Taking advantage of a lull, they tried again. The two conscripts managed to escape, but Colemil was hit in the leg. He tried to crawl but lost consciousness after a few metres. When the British advanced, they left him where he lay, believing him dead. He was later taken prisoner and regained consciousness aboard the British hospital ship Uganda, where a platinum plate was inserted in his skull.

That night, he expended five FAL magazines and reloaded twice. British accounts speak of a “sniper” who caused heavy casualties—this was likely Lance Corporal Carlos Rafael Colemil.

In 1982, he was awarded the decoration “Honour for Valour in Combat”.